Sivut kuvina

Tis but an hour


since it was nine;
And after oue hour more, 'twill be eleven i
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale.”. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial.-Oh, noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

[All retire to the Table.
Enter Orlando, with his Sword drawn, L.
Orl. (1.) Forbear, and eat no more !
Jaques. Why, I have eat none yet.
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
Jaques. Of what kind should this cock come of?
Duke. [Coming forward. Art thou thus boldened, man,

by thy distress ? Or else å rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

Orl. You touched my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility ; yet am I inland bred, And know some nurture : but forbear, I say! He dies that touches any of this fruit, Till I and my affairs are answered, Duke. (R. C.) What would you have? Your gentleness

shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orl. (L. c.) I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. Speak you so gentle ? Pardon me,


pray you; I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment: but whate'er you are, That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time : If ever you have looked on better days: If ever been where bells have knolled to church ;

If ever sat at any good man's feast;
If ever from your eye-lids wiped a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.

Duke. True is it, that we have seen better days,
nd have with holy bell been knolled to church;
And sat at good men's feasts; and wiped our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity had engendered :
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministered.

Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step
Limped in pure love; till he be first sufficed-
Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger-
I will not touch a bit.

Duke. Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orl. I thank ye; and be blessed for your good com-
fort !

[Zeit, L.
Duke. (c.) Thou see'st, we are not all alone unhappy :
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

Jaques. (L. c.) All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players :
They have their exits, and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier;
Full of strange caths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth : And then, the justice;

In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon ;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

[All retire to Table.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, L.
Duke. Welcome : set down your venerable burden,
And let him feed.

Orl. I thank you most for him.

Adam. So had you need; I scarce can speak to thank


for myself.
Duke. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble you,
As yet, to question you about your fortunes :-
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.

[Amiens advances, C.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude ;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.
Duke. (Comes forward.] If that you were the good Sir

Rowland's son-
As you have whispered faithfully you were ;
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness,
Most truly limned, and living in your face-

Be truly welcome hither; I am the duke,
That loved your father : : the residue of your fortune,
Go to my cave and tell me.--

-Good old man,
Thou art right welcome, as thy master is :
Support him by the arm.--Give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand. (Exeunt, L.



SCENE I.-- The Palace. Enter Duke FREDERICK, EUSTACE, Louis, Oliver, and

GENTLEMEN, L. Duke. (R.) Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it; Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; Bring him, dead or living, Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands; Till thou canst quit thee, by thy brother's mouth, Of what we think against thee. Oliv. (l.) Oh, that your highness knew my heart in

this ! I never loved


brother in my life. Duke. More villain thou! Well, push him out of doors : And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands : Do this expediently, and turn him going.

[Exeunt, Duke, R., the others, L.

SCENE II.—The Forest.

Enter ORLANDO, with a Paper, L. U. E. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my

love : And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey

With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.
Oh, Rosalind! these trees shall be


books, And on their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eyo, which in this forest looks, Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere, Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree, The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she. [Exit, R.

Enter Corin and TouchsTONE, R. Corin. (R.) And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone ?

Touch. (L. c.) Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look

it fits


humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?

Corin. No more, but that I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends - That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn : That good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great cause of the night is the lack of the sun: That he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.

Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd ?

Corin. No, truly.
Touch. Then thou art damned.
Corin. Nay, I hope-

Touch. Truly, thou art damned; like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.

Corin. For not being at court? Your reason.

Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners : if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation : Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.

« EdellinenJatka »